


Houses of the Holy

by 13zepptraxx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 not canon, Alive Mary Winchester, Alternate Universe, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Daddy Issues, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Drinking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Dynamics, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Reunion, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Verbal Abuse, Winchester Family Angst (Supernatural), because fuck the cw thats why, crowley is in love with dean (not shocking news), fuck john winchester, fueled by the rage the party city wig gave me, john has to be alive for The Plot. so sorry, just throw out 19 and 20, they fixed everything but its not important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13zepptraxx/pseuds/13zepptraxx
Summary: Dean suddenly feels highly uncomfortable with the car he's driving and the music he's playing. Pieces of time begin to go missing and Dean is running out of ways to rationalize everything. The yearning in his chest for this unknown force won't go away, either. It all feels wrong, but he can't put his finger on the reason why. His brother's having these weird nightmares though and as much as their dad tries to convince him he's just having a weird case of deja vu, Dean can't shake the feeling he needs to be somewhere else- anywhere else.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel, Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. It's Time To Go

“Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco,” the words slide off Azrael’s tongue, laced with a certain type of disdain one is unaware an angel can even hold for their brother or sister in arms. “Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco,” He repeats, the eyes of his brother lighting up blue.

“Stop.” a man coughs from the corner of the room. “Don’t touch him.” Azrael simply scoffs, ignoring the pathetic begging of the man who caused this in the first place. The famous one- the one whose name is practically etched into the eyelids of every angel that knows him, and his story. And the angel- the one who fell in every way possible, all for one human.

“Ab orbe terra,” Azrael continues, the angel struggling under his grasp as he clings to his own vessel, trying with all his might to not be sent back. “Hunc angelum omne obsequendum.” The man fights to escape Azrael’s hold, failing once more as he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Domine expuet, Domine expuet.” Azrael repeats, the angel coughing as he struggles to hold on. “The humans are beneath us, don’t you know that? It was beaten into you so many times, I was, truthfully, surprised to see that you went off the rails again. Then again, you were always a little bit off. You spent too much time with Lucifer, I’m sure.”

“Please- Please don’t.” The man begs from the side, tears falling freely from his eyes as he feels himself losing whatever energy and drive he had left in him. “Please don’t do this.” Azrael looks over to the man, the stone-coldness of Azrael’s face never wavering.

“Ut deum ad empyreum remittat.” The entire room lights up as the angel lets out an ear-piercing scream, and the man’s eardrums are nearly destroyed as the sound from the angel being ripped from his vessel floods the room. As soon as it began, however, it ended, and the angel’s vessel fell to the ground with a thud.

“Please.” The man says in a shaky voice as he watches the angel’s vessel fall. “Please.” Azrael turns to the man, releasing him from his grasp. “Just kill me and get it over with.” He falls to the ground, head resting back against the wall.

Azrael laughs dryly. “No no no; for you, I’m going to do something else. I won’t kill you, but what I’m going to do will probably make you wish I would, but only for a moment. Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up with no recollection of this, hmm?” He kneels down to the same eye level as the man. “In fact, you’ll have no memory of this- of him. You’re going to be normal, yeah? You and your brother.”

The man shakes his head, shrinking away from Azrael’s touch. “Please, no, please don’t, please-“ He begs as Azrael presses his fingers against the man’s head. The confusion and hurt on the man’s face quickly fades as memories leave his head (some more stubbornly than others). It doesn’t take long for Azrael to completely wipe his mind and replace the memories, as if the man had lived a normal life.

One memory though, one damn memory, was terribly difficult for Azrael to erase; almost as if it was clinging to the man’s mind and clawing to hang on. Azrael actually got frustrated with his brief inability to wipe it from the man’s mind.

It‘s an ugly old barn in Illinois; and it’s covered in any and every symbol known to the supernatural world. The light bulbs are bursting, and the barn doors fly open. The man and his rough-looking friend prepare for the worst, guns cocked and every weapon they could think of, laid out on a table. The man takes a sharp breath as a figure comes into view. He doesn’t know who or what it is, but something about it feels safe, all while terrifying the man. He shoots, but the figure persists.

“I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The figure says in a deep voice, and the man is taken aback. The man stabs him, but the figure pulls the knife out of his own chest and watches as it drops to the floor. The figure says the man’s name, and the way he says it feels comforting to the man.

“Who are you?” The man asks, and the figure gives him a soft look. The man knows, deep down; he knew long before the psychic told him the figure's name. It was something about the handprint on his arm, he thinks. He asks, nevertheless; and the name given to him feels like it belongs to someone he needs to know.

“Castiel.”


	2. What Is and What Should Never Be (Dean)

_“Alright, we’ve got popcorn, candy, movie’s ready to go- what are we missing?” Dean furrows his brows as he looks over to Cas._

_“Blankets.” Cas states as he pulls a few blankets out of the crate by the tv stand. “What movie are we watching?”_

_“The Princess Bride, Jack hasn’t seen it.” Dean scoffs. “I could’ve sworn I made him watch it.” He mumbles as he drops the tv remote down on the coffee table._

_“Me. You made me watch it.” Cas smiles._

_Dean smiles as well as he looks up at Cas, but his face drops as the room behind Cas begins- quite literally- falling apart. “Cas?” He says as things begin to crumble around them, but Cas is gone. “What the f-”_

Dean jerks awake, sweat beading on his forehead as he breathes heavily. He looks around as he attempts to collect his surroundings. It takes him almost a minute to realize where he is. He eventually rolls over onto his back, taking deep breaths as he rubs his forehead.

He’s been having increasingly weird dreams over the past week, and they’re causing him to lose sleep due to the fear of having another nightmare. At least, he thinks they’re nightmares. The actual content of the dreams aren’t bad, but he keeps waking up with terrible anxiety and a lingering feeling that something is off the rest of the day.

They always include the same people, too. Sam’s in most of them, but he has no idea who the teen looking kid is, or who _Castiel_ is. The name feels familiar in a really, really odd way, but he can’t figure out where it comes from. He googled it yesterday, but nothing came up.

After he finally gets his heart rate down, Dean just goes ahead and gets up for the day. It’s only seven o’clock and even his dog is still asleep, so Dean just goes to sit and drink coffee on his front porch. He watches as a few kids bike down the street- drawing confusion on Dean’s face because it is way too early for that. He also sees some moms power walking. They invited him to a “luncheon” once. It was awkward- Dean lied to get out of it.

Dean’s sitting outside for twenty minutes before the jingle of his dog’s collar sounds from inside, and the dog nudges their way out the front door that Dean left cracked. “Hey sweetheart, how’d you sleep?” He speaks softly as the dog crawls up into Dean’s lap. “You wanna go potty? We’ll go out back so you can run around, don’t want you chasing down another soccer mom.” The dog licks Dean’s face and Dean takes that as a “yes”. “I love you, Miracle, but your breath is god awful. We’ll go to Petco later and get you a toothbrush and if you’re good I’ll let you get a toy.”

He picks Miracle up and shuffles in the door and through the house before letting Miracle out back. Dean leaves the door cracked so Miracle can get in when she’s ready, and saunters back into the kitchen. He figures the whole house will be up soon, so he starts on breakfast.

He flips on the old radio he keeps in the kitchen, and an old Foreigner song flows out from the speakers. He thinks it’s Foreigner, at least. It sounds like something his dad would play in the car, so he lets it play.

As he cooks breakfast, Dean hums along to the song playing. It’s accompanied by the sizzle of bacon on the stove and the light patter of feet coming down the hallway. “Sleep okay?” He looks over as a figure enters the kitchen.

“Sam was snoring most of the night,” Jess nods as she laughs softly. “But it’s nothing hitting him with a pillow couldn’t solve. Thanks for letting us stay, by the way. He sleeps better here.” She comments as she sits down at the bar.

“He still having nightmares?” Dean raises an eyebrow, and Jess nods. “He had them a lot as a kid, but they stopped once he got a bit older. Has he talked to you about them?”

Jess shakes her head. “He won’t. I wish I could help him.”

“Just… be there for him.” Dean shrugs. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

Sam stumbles in not long after Jess. He runs his hands through his hair then down his face as he lets out a long sigh. He shuffled over to the coffee maker in silence. Dean and Jess share a glance. “‘Morning, Sammy.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re out of hazelnut.”

Dean grins. “Above the fridge. Figured you would’ve seen it, big and tall.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

At 9 o’clock, the front door bursts open and the quiet domesticity of Dean’s home is interrupted by a chorus of women yelling about finding Dean a girlfriend. Jo immediately shoves her phone in Dean’s face as Charlie and Anael raid the kitchen of what was left from breakfast.

“Come on, isn’t she cute?” Jo exclaims. “Look at the screen, Dean, look- look at the-” She fumbles as Dean struggles to escape Jo’s arms.

“She’s very cute,” Dean huffs as he escapes. “But you already have a girlfriend.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Dude, this girl- she’s single, looking, and she’s your type.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “I have a type? Wasn’t aware I had a type.” He states as he sets dishes in the sink. “Annie, do I have a type?”

Anael glares over to Dean, but a smile quickly washes over her face. “Yes. Brunettes.”

“What?” Dean tilts his head to the side. “I hit on Jo before I knew she wasn’t single- she’s not a brunette.”

“I’m not a natural blonde, Dean.” Jo furrows her brows. “Did you seriously not know that?”

Dean doesn’t respond, but an awkward look is planted on his face as he slowly turns around to the sink and begins washing the dishes in silence. Jo and Charlie are arguing about whether or not Jo is a natural blonde (it’s mentioned often that Dean and Charlie share a single brain cell), Anael is taunting Sam with a pair of scissors, and Jess is watching lovingly at Sam and Anael taunting each other.

All of this drowns out as Dean’s washing the dishes. There’s something eerily familiar about it and he can’t comprehend why he’s getting deja vu from washing the fucking dishes. He is though, and it’s like the fifth time this week (and it’s only Wednesday).

_“You’re not- you’re not doing it right, hold on-” Dean laughs as he grabs the sponge from Cas. “Look, there’s food stuck on here so you have to-”_

_“How am I scraping food off a plate wrong?” Cas scoffs, snatching the sponge back from Dean. “We had paper plates, you know, so this is really your fault.”_

_Dean rolls his eyes. “Bad for the environment, sweetheart. I’m gonna finish putting the food up, don’t leave any food on my good plates.” He nods towards the dirty plates in the sink before looking back up at Cas. “Thank you for helping me clean up.” Dean smiles and plants a kiss on Castiel’s cheek. Cas blushes._

“Dean?”

Dean drops a cup in the sink as he’s jerked back into reality… or, _a_ reality. Dean is confused as he looks over to Charlie, who’s standing next to him with concern on her face. “Are you okay?” Charlie asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “‘M fine, why?”

“You zoned out for like five minutes.” Charlie replies. “And you just broke that cup. Your hand is bleeding.” She gestures towards the cut in the palm of Dean’s hand. Blood is dripping into the sink- Dean hadn’t noticed.

Dean doesn’t even flinch as Anael wraps up his hand. He doesn’t remember being that tolerant of pain, but it’s pretty easy to rationalize in his mind. Just didn’t realize it was happening so it didn’t hurt, simple as that.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks. “You’ve been acting weird all week.”

“I’m fine.” Dean shrugs as he messes with the bandage on his hand. “Didn’t sleep well last night. Nightmare.”

“Oh.” Sam mutters. He sits down next to Dean on the couch. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Dean leans back. “Jess said you are too. Wanna talk about it?”

Sam shakes his head. “No, not particularly.” He chuckles. “You?”

“They’re not really nightmares.” Dean swallows the lump in his throat. “But I wake up and my heart is racing and I-” He stops. Just talking about dreams- or nightmares, he genuinely can’t figure it out- brings on a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he _shouldn’t_ be talking about it. “And they’re always the same? The same setting, I guess. Same people.”

Sam looks over. “Like good dreams? But you wake up scared?”

Dean’s brows furrow. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Me too.” Sam says as he contemplates… well, he truthfully has no fucking clue.

Both of them can find ways to rationalize and explain away all the weird happenings and strange inconsistencies going on in their lives. It’s easy enough and Sam decides it’s because Mercury’s in retrograde. Dean doesn’t know what that means, but he trusts Sam so he goes with it.

By noon everyone leaves, and Dean sits alone in his living room with his dog and a really weird feeling that he should be doing something else right now. There’s a strange, empty feeling in his chest as well. It’s a feeling like something used to occupy it and it was never supposed to be gone.

He can rationalize it though, of course. He’s alone and he needs to find somebody. Simple as that. He’ll be fine. He can shake it off.

_“We should take a drive.” Dean says absentmindedly as he runs his fingers over Castiel’s back. “Just us.”_

_“Where would we go?” Cas asks._

_“Anywhere.” Dean replies. “We could go anywhere. See New York, maybe hit the Grand Canyon. I heard the sunsets are beautiful in New Mexico- we could spend a couple days there.”_

_Cas smiles at the thought. “I saw this place when I was on earth maybe three thousand years ago- Oneonta Gorge. I’d like to see that.”_

_“Oneonta Gorge?” Dean scoffs. “That’s a non-trail in Oregon. I’m pretty sure we’d be trespassing.”_

_“Shying away from something because it’s forbidden?” Cas hoists himself up, clasping his hands together as he rests them on Dean’s chest. “I’m shocked.”_

_Dean laughs. “I wasn’t saying no. I’ve never been hiking though, don’t think you have either. We’d need to bring your grace with us in case we almost die and need a backup or something.” He reaches up to run his hand through Castiel’s hair. “We could do it though. I hear outdoor se-”_

_Cas lets out a long groan as he drops his head down on Dean’s chest._

_Dean grins. “We’ll plan it out, sweetheart. Get a map with little pins for the places we’ll go.”_

_Cas looks back up with a soft smile on his face. “I love you.”_

_"I love you, angel."_


	3. Dazed and Confused (Dean)

Dean wants to crawl inside himself as his father explains a car part to him. Dean _knows._ He understands what the part does. He knows exactly how to install it, too. He just wasn’t one-hundred percent sure of the type of tool he needed to do it, so he called John to ask. Mistake. John was at Dean’s house within fifteen minutes, grumbling about Dean’s “piece of shit plastic car.” His car worked just fine, but Dean stayed silent. He also refrained from mentioning that if John had let him have the Impala like he was promised, this wouldn’t be happening. This is one of many promises John made to Dean then later broke.

“You should’ve just called me when you started having problems.” John grumbles. “How do you even know you got the right part?” He turns to Dean.

Dean sighs. “The guy at the parts store has the same kind of car. Also, I googled it.”

John rolls his eyes. “Right.”

Dean crosses his arms as he leans against the table in the garage. He should’ve just googled the tool. It definitely would have saved him some trauma, at least.

_So what exactly are we looking for?” Cas raises an eyebrow as he looks around the parts store with a confused look. “It smells like tires in here.”_

_Dean laughs. “That’s because they sell tires here. I need oil so I don’t have to go get the oil changed at a place that has no idea what the hell to do because my car’s too old.” He says the last part in a mocking tone. He took his car to get the oil changed once when he and Sam spent most of the winter up north, and he didn’t feel like getting out in the cold to change the oil on his own. He has never again taken his car somewhere to get the oil changed._

_I changed the oil in one of my cars once.” Cas comments. “It was a disaster.” He browses the shelves full of different types and brands of oil. “What kind do we need?”_

_10w-30.” Dean replies. “And we need two of them just in case, I don’t want to drive another hour round trip again.”_

_Cas smiles over at Dean. “But you’ll make the 12 hour round trip to Jody’s every weekend?”_

_Dean nods like this fact should be something obvious to Cas. “Do you know how many movies Claire hasn’t seen? It’s my job to educate her.” He scoffs. It’s something Cas should know by now- obviously. It’s not like Dean doesn’t drag the guy up to Sioux Falls with him every time he goes. “Her birthday’s on a Sunday this year so we’ll have to head up there on the Friday before, by the way.”_

_“We’re not throwing her a party against her will, are we?” Cas raises an eyebrow. “Is this the right oil?” He holds a container of oil out at Dean._

_“Of course we are,” Dean remarks. “She did it to me. Yes, this is right.”_

“Dean?”

Dean suddenly looks up to the voice of John trying to get his attention. “Yeah?”

“Are you paying attention, son?” John replies, before looking back down at Dean’s car. “No wonder you don’t know how to fix your own damn car.”

Dean opens his mouth to fight back, but he’s stopped by the distant sound of his doorbell ringing. _Thank god._ “I’m gonna get the door.” Dean mumbles as he rushes out of the garage and into the kitchen, shuffling through the house as quickly as he can to get to the front door.

He swings open the door and is immediately greeted by Crowley shoving a folder in his face. “I’m kicking her out of the band.” Crowley grumbles as he pushes past Dean and heads straight for the kitchen. “I swear to god- how difficult is it to loop us in when she’s planning something?” He sighs in exasperation.

“Um,” Dean furrows his brows as he opens the folder. “What the fuck is this supposed to be?”

“The lease to a building we cannot afford, to build a studio we cannot afford.” Crowley snaps. He grabs a beer from the fridge and tosses the cap into Dean’s sink. Dean sighs. “She slipped that under my fucking door this morning.”

“Where the hell did she get the money for a deposit?” Dean looks back up. “Didn’t she _just_ buy a new Fender?”

Crowley nods. “Yup. New amp, too. And then an entire building… because why not?” He rolls his eyes as he leans against the counter. He then notices the extra set of keys on the counter, and cocks his head at them. “Who’s here?”

“My dad.” Dean says quietly as he leans against the counter next to Crowley. Crowley gasps, and all but drops the beer bottle in Dean’s hands. He grabs the folder from Dean and darts for the door. “You don’t have to-”

“Crowley, is it?” Crowley and Dean both turn to face John, who stands in the doorway with an annoyed look on his face. “You’re one of the band guys my son is running around with, right?” The tone of voice John uses runs a chill down Dean’s spine. He’s used to it, but it still brings on a sense of nausea that he can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it.

Crowley nods. “Yes sir.”

“Maybe if you quit playing rockstar, Dean,” John starts. “You’d be able to buy a better car- or maybe finally find a wife? You need to be able to support a family.” Dean swallows the lump in his throat. _I like guys. I like guys. I like guuuyyysss you don’t even know the half of me “running around” with Crowley._

“Well, I should-” Crowley clears his throat. “I should get going. Walk me out, Dean?” He raises an eyebrow. Dean appreciates Crowley’s thinly veiled attempt to rescue him from John.

“Thanks.” Dean half-smiles once he and Crowley are outside and a safe distance from the front door. “Sorry for… him.” Dean chuckles, leaning against the Impala. John would murder him if he saw it. “He gets cranky when he’s around me.”

“If you need me to get you out of here-”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m good, he’s leaving soon. I just made the mistake of calling him to ask about something and he decided to drop everything and come over because I’m incompetent and I break everything I touch.”

“Did he say that?” Crowley asks.

“Didn’t have to.” Dean shrugs. “I’ve been the problem child since birth.” He looks away from Crowley for a moment before looking back, clearing his throat, and pushing off of the car. “I’ll uh- I’ll talk to Meg, try to make sense of this whole studio thing. Try not to kill her?”

Crowley scoffs. “Right. Call me if you need rescuing. Or a getaway car.”

Dean nods, ignoring the terrifying illusion of Crowley standing bloodied in front of him, with a stab wound in his abdomen. It’s gone and everything’s back to normal after a couple blinks, so Dean tries not to worry too much about it.

“I was serious about you finding a real job, you know.” John comments once Dean returns to the kitchen, and Dean sighs. He moves past John and goes to pull a beer out of the fridge. “You can’t live a stable life like this. You can’t just live in this house with that dog for the rest of your life.”

“What the fuck does my dog have to do with anything?” Dean slams the refrigerator door shut and turns back to face John. “I’m good with my life, why do you care?”

“Your mother and I-” John huffs. “We wanted more for you boys. You could go back to school- get a good job. Look at how successful Sam is. Good job, good wife, a kid.”

“I am not going back to school.” Dean groans as he rubs his eyes. “And don’t bring my brother into this. He has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Doesn’t he? You were supposed to be the example. You’re his big brother, he looks up to you, and he was the one that was supposed to follow in _your_ example. I shouldn’t even have to have this conversation with you.” John explains. Dean wants to just hide inside a cabinet until his father finally fucks off.

“You realize you’ve been preaching that to me almost my entire life?” Dean raises an eyebrow. He’s pacing across the room at this point. “Since I was seventeen. For 25 years you’ve been telling me Sam is better than me and I need to be more like Sam. Is it the school thing or the liking guys thing?”

“I am not having this conversation with you.” John snaps as he steps closer to Dean.

“Really? Because I’d _love_ to have this conversation with you.” Dean shoots back. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.” Dean gets a bit more bold when he’s angry- something multiple people have told him will get him in trouble one day; part of him thinks today is that day. He and John have been having this fight for twenty-five years, and Dean is beyond done with it.

“You’re disappointing your mother, you know that?” John states. “She wants so much better for you.”

“I don’t know, it’s a tad creepy that my parents care who I have sex with, don’t you think?” Dean jokes as he walks off from John. “Maybe you should address how my _other_ little brother came to be before you judge me on morality.”

This strikes a highly odd feeling within Dean. He can write it off as maladaptive daydreaming though- maybe. He hasn’t quite found a concrete way to logically explain all the weird shit that’s been happening to him as of late. 

_“Adam and Michael are in Australia.” Sam chuckles as he spins his laptop around to show Dean pictures of their brother (and the angel? they haven’t figured out how to address that yet) in Australia._

_"Is that Adam?” Dean furrows his brows. “He doesn’t look like a board. Guess it is.” He hums, before spinning the laptop back around to Sam. “Weren’t they in Italy like two days ago?”_

_Sam shrugs. “Michael still has his wings, so I guess they’re just hopping around. By the way-” Sam stops himself before he finishes his sentence. He doesn’t really know how to ask this question._

_"What?”_

_“Are they-” Sam clears his throat. “Are they… together?”_

_“Like,_ **_together_ ** _, together?” Dean asks. He thinks the answer is yes, but Adam isn’t very open about that part of his life. The kid mainly just updates Sam and Dean of his whereabouts and ensures them he’s still alive. “Maybe?”_

_“How the hell does that even work?” Sam asks as he ponders the thought._

_“Who knows.” Dean scoffs, and looks back down to the book in his lap. “Some questions are better left unanswered. Right, honey?”_

_“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Cas asks in an offended tone._

_Dean looks back up as he laughs softly. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on Castiel’s lips. “Just kidding.” He smiles._

_Cas rolls his eyes and playfully shoves Dean’s face away from him._

“Are you just fundamentally unable to love, is that it? Or is my approval of all the women you’ve dated just the deciding factor of you leaving them?”

Dean is not incapable of love- he knows that. John knows it too, but he never was willing to acknowledge the longest, most important relationship Dean ever had. It didn’t surprise Dean, but it still hurt.

“I’m not-” Dean stops just as he starts. It’s no use. He just wants this to be over.

“Right, you were with that guy for how long?” John retorts. “Because that was so clearly real.”

“Please get out of my house.” Dean mumbles. “Now.” He starts for the back door, but John grabs his arm to stop him. Dean’s eyes dart down to John’s grip on his arm, then back up to the man’s face. “His name was Benny and I know that you’ll never care, but he was the only one I didn’t _care_ about getting your approval with because he was worth more than whatever bullshit you’d decide to spew.” He shakes John’s hand off his arm. “I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, assuming I’m still your son?”

John stays completely silent as he leaves in a rush. Dean thinks he might have struck a nerve with his last comment.

Dean takes a few moments to let his head stop swimming so he can actually make it the back door to let Miracle in. When she trots in, Dean bends down to her level. “Wanna take a nap? Let’s take a nap.” He laughs softly as Miracle starts wagging her tail. Dean is one-hundred percent convinced the dog can understand english.

Dean retreats to his bedroom with Miracle in tow, and plops down on his bed. Miracle curls up to his side as Dean pulls out his phone to call Cas. It takes scrolling down to ‘C’ in his contacts to remember that he does not know Cas and does not have a _Cas_ in his contacts. “What the fuck?” Dean says aloud as he sits up.

_“Am I really just ‘Cas’ in your contacts?” Cas says in confusion as he glances over to Dean. “Am I only worth three letters?” He’s being dramatic because Claire has a funny nickname in Dean’s contacts and he doesn’t._

_“If you weren’t snooping on my phone to get your feelings hurt you wouldn’t be upset about that.” Dean says absentmindedly as he sorts through his record collection. “Zeppelin two or four?”_

_“Two.” Cas replies. “It’s not my fault your password is simple enough for me to hack.” He drops Dean’s phone on the bed. “Am I not worth an emoji, at least?” It’s worth noting Cas wasn’t actually snooping on Dean’s phone. He was just bored. Dean doesn’t care, anyway- he has nothing to hide except a bad contact name for his boyfriend, apparently._

_Dean puts the record on the player and starts it, turning the volume down a bit before he crawls on the bed, straddling Castiel’s hips. “You’re Cas- what else would your contact name be?” He takes Castiel’s hands. “Nicknames are for my friends.”_

_“Maybe a heart emoji?” Cas raises an eyebrow. “Are we not friends?”_

_Dean grins. “Yeah but not… not like Donna or someone. I could put a heart emoji but it’d be out of obligation now, you know? Because you told me to.”_

_Cas gives Dean a blank stare and Dean plasters a shiteating grin on his face, which causes Cas to break out into a smile as well. “I guess we can stick with Cas.”_

_Dean shakes his head. “No, I got an idea.” He leans over and grabs his phone. “I can’t do a regular nickname because then you’re just categorized with one of my normal friends and that’d be really weird.”_

_Cas watches as Dean types for a moment. “Okay, smile. I have to update your contact picture too.” Cas gives Dean a wide smile, and Dean snaps a picture. He then leans down and kisses Cas. “Alright, wanna see?” He asks as he sits back up._

_Cas is a bit weary, seeing as Dean’s contact name for Claire is ‘angry marksman barbie’. He gives Dean an odd look as he grabs the phone. The contact name now reads, ‘honeybee’ with a bee emoji, followed by a yellow heart. Cas smiles softly._

_“That better, angel?” Dean raises an eyebrow._

_Cas laughs. “Much. I guess I should change yours from just your name.”_

_The smile on Dean’s face is quickly replaced by shock. “You’re fucking kidding.”_

_Cas quickly escapes Dean’s grip and goes for the door. Dean chases him, snaking his arms around Castiel’s waist and spinning him around. “You’re evil.” Dean breathes as he puts on this fake scary face that isn’t working, because he melts whenever he looks at Cas. It’s a weakness he’s not proud of._

_“I know you won’t believe me but I was kidding.” Cas laughs. “Your name has three heart emojis after it.”_

_Dean ponders for a moment, before looking back to Cas. “What color?”_

_“Pink.” Cas replies._

_"There’s like five pink ones.”_

_"The one with the sparkles.” Cas states. “And the one that’s two connected ones, then the one with the gift bow.”_

_“Oh.” Dean nods slowly. “I’m worth three emojis?”_

_“Shut up.” Cas chuckles as he pulls Dean in, locking their lips together._

_“I love you.” Dean laughs against Castiel’s lips._

_“It is three o’clock in the morning!” Sam suddenly bangs on the door. “Turn off the music! Go to bed!”_

_He’s shuffling back to his room before Dean and Cas can respond._

_They lean into each other as they laugh. This was a normal occurrence, and as much as Sam despises having to get up almost every night and yell at them to turn off the music, all three of them are overwhelmingly happy with the fact that they have the luxury of something as stupid as this being_ **_normal._**

Dean remembers that sort of feeling, but he can’t pinpoint from where. He just knows that he had something good but something went wrong, because something always goes wrong. He doesn’t know how or why, but he’s certain now that he really, really needs to be somewhere else.


	4. Good Times Bad Times (Dean)

_“You told Sam, right?”_

_“Yeah.” Dean replies. “He said he’s glad he can finally turn my room into an office.” He scoffs as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. His breath is visible and the crisp air is turning his hands red as he unlocks the front door of the house approximately fourteen miles from the center of Lebanon. It’s approximately eleven miles from the bunker._

_“There are a lot of rooms there he could’ve turned into an office a very long time ago.” Cas chuckles. “We’re painting in here, right?” He furrows his brows as he and Dean step into the house. “This color is obnoxious.”_

_Dean smiles over to Cas. “We can do whatever we want. It’s ours.”_

Dean jolts awake. It doesn’t take him long to control his breathing at this point- he’s woken up the same way every morning for two weeks straight. He tosses the blankets aside and turns to sit on the side of the bed. “Fuck.” He mutters as he runs his hands down his face. By now, he feels like he knows this _Castiel_ person in a biblical sense. The longing in his chest grows daily and no amount of drinks or people in his bed can fill the longing.

He shrugs it off, however, and starts his day. He’s playing at a bar tonight and most of the locals _really_ like him, so he’s grown accustomed to dressing in a way that will get him the most money. He’s tired of being paid in drinks… and sex. He’s past ready to settle down, but he’s determined to wait until John bites it so the man isn’t proven right (Not really. At least, Dean will deny it to any normal person).

“The 2000’s called, they want their guyliner back.” Dean’s brows furrow as Crowley appears behind him in the mirror. Dean turns around with multiple questions at the tip of his tongue. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“I have a key.” Crowley shrugs, and crosses his arms. “Figured I’d come see you before soundcheck.”

“Oh.” Dean stops. It hadn’t been that long since he last saw Crowley, so he was confused as to why the man went out of his way to come back. “I figured you’d still be asleep.”

“Got back at three, up at ten. Had coffee.” Crowley grins. “You want to just ride together?”

“I really hope that wasn’t a euphemism.” Dean mumbles as he slides past Crowley.

Crowley follows Dean through the bedroom and out to the kitchen. “Not this time.”

Dean huffs. “Right, well, it’d probably look weird if we showed up together.” He reminds Crowley. The band has a very strict (very broken) no fraternization rule, which Dean and Crowley broke in like… a week. The rule was put in place because they had five members until said fifth member cheated on their bassist. He was kicked out and Ruby immediately stood up at the band meeting and announced, “No fucking each other. Never fuck each other. Ever.”

“It’s been like three years, you really think they’ll care?” Crowley raises an eyebrow.

Dean scoffs. “They’ll care. Ruby will remind us of the _exact_ day they made the stupid rule, then we’ll be kicked out of the band.”

“Would we?” Crowley questions. “They’re not gonna find a drummer better than you if they do.”

“Thanks.” Dean plays it off with a laugh to hide the blush creeping up on his face. Crowley was almost nice to him. “Look, if the lead singer of the band says something, we should probably roll with it, right? It’s not even a big deal.”

“Wastes gas.” Crowley mumbles, and Dean’s pretty sure Crowley’s pouting. “You know I didn’t come over here just to chit chat and watch you make coffee, right?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Wow, I thought you actually had the ability to care for another human being.” He huffs as he grabs Crowley’s shirt and pulls him closer to him.

“Just you.” Crowley replies. “But you never listen.”

“You’re not in love with me.” Dean grumbles. “No fraternization, remember?”

“Why are you incapable of acknowledging that you’re actually _not_ unable to accept love?” Crowley tilts his head.

Dean just rolls his eyes. He’s held the belief for a really long time that anyone and everyone could do so much better than him. And they usually realize this after being with him for a while, too. Everyone Dean’s ever been with has left at some point because they got tired of him, so much to the point that it’s never surprising anymore. He’s used to it- encourages it, even. Less of a chance for drama to ensue.

_“Are you okay?” Cas sits down in the chair next to Dean at the kitchen table. “What’s up?” He asks softly as he runs a hand through Dean’s hair._

_“Bad night.” Dean sighs as he takes a drink of the scotch he’s almost certain he received from Arthur Ketch. “You should go back to bed, ‘m good.”_

_“No, you’re not.” Cas disagrees with Dean. Cas knows not to continue unless Dean says anything, because Cas knows what Dean will and won’t choose to hear when he’s like this. It’s not Dean’s fault, and Cas doesn’t blame him for any of it, he just wishes there was more he could do._

_Dean looks down at his hands, resting open on the table, his palms facing upward. He’s gotten to a point in his life where he’s okay with who he is, with what he’s done, but he still can’t stop the bad nights. This particular bad night has the memory of what he did to Cas when he had the mark of Cain. This is what haunts him most often, and it’s almost always when they’re at a good point._

_“Why do you love me?” Dean says quietly, his eyes still gazing down at his own hands._

_This question is abhorrent to Cas, shown by the way his face contorts as he processes it. He knows he will never be able to help Dean see the way he is to others- to Cas. Cas knows Dean will never truly understand why he’s so deserving of this love he’s received. This is why Cas is careful, and patient, and understanding._

_“I’ve done so much bad- to other people, to Sam, to- to you. How can you love me after all of that?” Dean finally looks over to Cas. Dean is exhausted, and afraid. He’s waiting for the day he finally does something that’s too far, too much, too bad, and Cas leaves him._

_Cas made his decision a long time ago, though. It had been years since Cas looked at Dean and told himself he was in this. He decided he was in it for good, for bad, forever. There are a million things Cas could say now, but the haze in Dean’s eyes, matched with the tears falling from them, is capable of rendering Cas completely powerless._

_“Dean,” Cas says in a soft, hushed voice, taking Dean’s hands in his. Dean turns, now facing Cas. His eyes meet Castiel’s, and his heart breaks a bit when he sees tears forming in Castiel’s eyes. He causes them, he knows. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth and go over the edge with you.”_

_Cas reaches up and wipes the tears from Dean’s cheek. “You are loved, and worthy of it. You are not defined by what haunts you.”_

_Dean sniffles. His hands tighten around Castiel’s. The warmth of Castiel’s hands seem to be the only thing keeping Dean grounded._

_“You’re still-” Cas reaches up, tilting Dean’s head back up slowly. “I helped create the constellations, I knit together planets, and your soul is still the most beautiful creation I’ve ever held. Despite everything, your soul still shines as brightly as it did, tattered and broken in hell. You are still beautiful, you’re still Dean._ **_My_ ** _Dean.”_

_Neither of them say anything past this. Dean cries for a while afterwards, and Cas just sits with him. Cas knows how important it is that Dean is even allowing himself to be vulnerable around someone. Dean can’t express it- he can’t verbalize any of it just yet- but he trusts Cas with every bit of his soul. Every dark spot, every scar, every single thing that haunts him in the middle of the night. The prospect of losing what he has here is terrifying._

Dean swallows the lump in his throat as his mind wanders out of whatever kind of daydream it was in. He’s partly surprised he made it to the bar, because he doesn’t remember the drive. His mind is completely occupied by this mysterious being the dream version of him fondly calls honeybee. He’s pretty jealous of his dream self, if he’s being honest.

The gig is overwhelmingly normal aside from Meg bleeding all over her guitar because her knuckle split, and Dean has almost completely forgotten about it by the time he pulls into his driveway. He sits in his car for a few minutes before forcing himself to go inside.

He stops as soon as he steps in the front door. Miracle greets him, and Dean immediately decides he absolutely does not want to be at his house and he needs to be _anywhere else_ right now. He quickly grabs Miracle and her leash, as well as a few things shoved into a backpack, then retreats back to his car. He drives around for ten minutes before finding himself heading in the direction of Sam’s house.

The doorbell rings, and Sam jolts up, grabbing his phone to see who the hell is at his house at two o’clock in the morning. He’s currently grateful he caved and got a _ring_ doorbell against his wishes that technology was taking over. “Who the hell’s at the door?” Jess mumbles from Sam’s side.

Sam sighs. “Just Dean. Go back to sleep.” He rubs his eyes as he practically rolls out of bed, groaning lightly as he makes his way downstairs and to the front door. “Dude, it’s-”

“I know. Sorry.” Dean interrupts as he pushes past Sam and walks into the living room. He lets Miracle off her leash, and she bolts upstairs. They’re there enough that Miracle knows exactly where Ronen’s bedroom is, and also that the kid leaves his door cracked at night for some unknown reason that Dean will never figure out. “I didn’t want to be at home.”

“Are you… okay?” Sam asks warily. He knows that’s a very conflicting question for Dean depending on what day it is.

“Remember how I said I was having these weird dreams that my body keeps treating as nightmares?” Dean asks as he shrugs his hoodie off, tossing down on Sam’s couch. “And how you’re having them too?”

“Yeah, but-” Sam crosses his arms. “It was just a weird coincidence.”

Dean sighs. “They feel real, Sam.” Confusion is drawn on Sam’s face at this comment. “Like, they’re not dreams- they’re memories.”

“That’s impossible.” Sam scoffs. “Unless you have a secret life you never told me about.” He laughs lightly, but stops as he sees that Dean is not kidding. “Are you serious? That’s impossible.” He watches as Dean sits down on the couch, biting his nails as he looks up at Sam. Sam sits down across from him. “Look, it’s probably just maladaptive daydreaming or something, okay? And at night it’s just… lucid dreaming.”

“I never told you it’s happening during the day.” Dean furrows his brows as he looks up at Sam. “It’s happening to you too, isn’t it?”

Sam sighs as he rubs his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s nothing, like I said.”

“Is it?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “This is different. This feels different- I know what the fuck maladaptive daydreaming is. It was my coping mechanism and way out of my life for my entire teenage years. This isn’t it. This feels like a memory that I lost and it’s popping back up. Something’s wrong, Sam.” Sam stays silent. Dean has no idea how to get Sam on board with… well, he isn’t sure yet. He’s working on it.

“If it’s happening to you too then it can’t just be a coincidence, okay?” Dean continues. “We’re experiencing the exact same thing.”

Sam shakes his head. “No. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a really weird, really creepy coincidence.”

“You’re having dreams _and_ daydreams constantly, with the same people and same setting in all of them, and you think it’s just a weird coincidence?” Dean asks. “Sam, I am having memories, or visions, or whatever- of me in this serious, long term relationship with this guy named _Castiel_. It’s every night, and during the day, and-”

“What did you say?” Sam’s head shoots up.

“Cas- Castiel.” Dean repeats his name slowly.

“How the hell do you know that name?” Sam asks. “You said you’re in a relationship with him?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, and from the looks of it, it’s the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“What was the last dream you had about it?” Sam tilts his head. “I can’t- yeah, I can’t rationalize that one.” He sighs as he runs his hands through his hair.

“We were in-” Dean clears his throat. “In my room? I think it was mine, at least. It wasn’t at my house. I was sifting through a bunch of Led Zeppelin vinyls and he was laying on my bed- our bed, I think. And we were fucking around about his contact name in my phone being something stupid, I don’t know. But we had the music on, and y-”

“I banged on the door and told you both to go to bed because it was three in the morning?” Sam finishes Dean’s sentence, almost to a T. “What song was playing?”

“Uh,” Dean thinks for a moment. He never really listened to Led Zeppelin- it was more his dad’s thing. This thought is suddenly very strange and foreign to him, though. He feels like he knows that music far more than he thinks. “Whole Lotta Love.”

“Oh my god.” Sam laughs dryly as he stands up. “What the fuck?”

Dean stands up as well. “Like I said, something’s wrong. _Really_ wrong.”

 _“So what does… huckleberry mean?” Jack asks, his head tilted in confusion at the tv. Sam begged for Dean to let anyone else pick the movie, but Dean refused, and now Sam is going to have to hide for an hour while Dean tells Jack all the “lore” surrounding_ **_Tombstone_ ** _. He’s so done._

_“It basically means, “Name the place and I’ll go with you,” or… I’m the one you’re looking for.” Dean explains. “It has a few meanings.”_

_“Is it… romantic?” Jack asks, and Sam quickly excuses himself. He had to listen to Dean gush for a five hour car ride about Cas saying that stupid phrase once, and he still hasn’t recovered._

_“It can be.” Cas states. “Depends on how you mean it.”_

_Dean smiles. “Proud of you.” He looks up at Cas, a fond look in his eye. He’s not one-hundred percent sure Cas isn’t just going along with all of Dean’s obsession because he loves him, or if Cas actually enjoys all the shit Dean makes him watch, but Dean appreciates it nonetheless._

_“You’re so mean to me.” Dean comments as he saunters into the kitchen, where Sam leans against the island. “Can I not love things, Samuel?”_

_“If I have to hear about one more cowboy I’ll probably kill you.” Sam teases. “I figured once you and Cas got involved you’d move on from traumatizing me.” Sam’s not serious and Dean knows this, they just wouldn’t be siblings if they weren’t assholes to each other._

_“Involved?” Dean scoffs. “Really?_ **_Involved_ ** _?” He glares at Sam as he walks by him to get a beer from the fridge._

_Sam rolls his eyes. “Right. Married better?”_

_Dean freezes in place. He slowly arches his head to the side to look at Sam. “What?” Dean barely chokes out._

_Sam chuckles. “You have a house together. And a dog. And there’s a single last name on the mailbox.”_

_“Well, uh,” Dean sputters. He thinks he may have just fried some wires in his brain. “We haven’t really- we never actually-” He stops as he takes a breath. They can’t even get legally married, so there’s no point in freaking out over it, but the idea is kind of a nice one to think about._

_“Did that break you?” Sam comments. “I didn’t mean to break you.”_

_“We can’t even do it legally,” Dean shrugs. “But I mean- it’s a- it is a nice thought.”_

_“Then do it.” Sam says nonchalantly, like this isn’t one of the biggest things to ever happen to Dean. “Get some rings and invite a bunch of people and I’ll pretend to be ordained. Don’t need a piece of paper for that.”_

_Dean smiles as he ponders the idea. It’s a nice thing to consider- domestic life. It’s something he can see himself living in and living comfortably in for the first time in almost his whole life. He never felt truly settled when he was, and he always felt like he had more to do. With Chuck out of the picture though, and a new generation of hunters working their way up, the idea of retiring with his angel and his dog and drinking coffee on his front porch in the morning is something that seems more feasible._

_He decides he’ll discuss with it Cas after they get back to the house tonight._


End file.
